Leaping into Darkness
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: Robin feels a little insecure about entering into a relationship with someone who already knows so much about him, and fears he'll disappoint her, just as as he disappointed another version of her.
1. Chapter 1

Robin groans and squints his eyes as he turns roughly away from the sun peeking into the otherwise darkened room. The bed is soft and the blankets are heavy, and it's easy to forget his frustration as he burrows into a down pillow, deciding he's not quite ready to wake up and deal with the dull ache at his temples.

He takes a breath and slowly releases it–and that's when he remembers the previous night and his eyes fly open.

Regina–the great and terrible Evil Queen– is laying in the bed beside him with the blankets bunched around her. Her legs are stretched out and uncovered, with one knee bent toward him and her face turned away–and it's only then that he realizes that the night before wasn't just a part of some drunken dream.

The night before exists in flashes of hazy memories–from the moment she walked into the tavern to the seemingly endless drinks they'd shared to the moment they disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. He rolls onto his side, attempting to piece it all together as he props his head up with his hand. A smile draws onto his lips as he feels a sting between his shoulder blades, remembering the way her nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him closer and her legs wrapped around his waist.

He can remember pushing her back against a cool stone wall, thrusting into her as a low growl escaped her–and he remembers the way her breaths became shorter, catching in her throat as her nails sunk deeper into his skin. An orgasm has rippled through her, forcing her nails down his back, clawing as she screamed out–and he can remember the wild look in her eyes as her legs slid down over his hips, her feet only just meeting the floor before she took his hand and led him into her bedchamber.

There'd been a flash of something in her eyes as she'd shoved him roughly back onto the bed, ripping away remaining articles of clothing as she licked her lips and offered him a hungry gaze. Her nails dragged down his chest as she leaned in, licking her way down his torso–a grin edging onto her lips as she teased him–before finally taking his cock into her mouth and sucking him hard again. Her lips had been warm and firm and fingers pressed into his thigh. Her tongue flattened down his shaft and she sucked harder and harder each time, kneading his balls and pushing him closer and closer to climaxing. With every stroke of her tongue, he felt it building. His fingers had formed around the soft satiny sheets–and just when he was about to explode, she'd pulled away, a low growl escaping her as their eyes met.

He can remember reaching out to touch her–pressing his palm between her thighs. It took only a moment before his fingers began to explore her, slipping through her the sleek, wet warmth. He can remember the way she's purred as her head fell back as her hips began to rock against his hand–and then, suddenly, she'd pushed him back down. He didn't have a moment to question it, all he could do was stare as she climbed on top of him. She sank down onto his cock, her eyes closing and he took a breath–and then, she'd looked him straight in the eye as she rode herself to a second orgasm.

At some point, he'd come again, too–and he a smile draws onto his lips as he remembers flipping her over, linking his arms beneath her knees and driving her into the mattress.

Taking a breath, he rolls onto his back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

He'd been here before.

Not here, exactly–but in a similar situation.

The night before, she'd walked into the tavern and offered to buy him a drink–just as another version of her had not long before. There were so many similarities between them–between the woman laying at his side and the woman he'd so quickly disappointed, the woman who'd loved another version of him in another time and place.

It was a common theme in his life–to be a disappointment–and he felt an odd sensation stirring at his core, as he remembered a particular look she'd given him in the tavern the night before.

The first time he'd noticed it, he'd been in the middle of a story–a heist that had been particularly lucrative and particularly thrilling, a story he thought would impress her–and there'd been glimmer of recognition in her eyes. She'd heard the story before, she'd heard it from another version of him–the better version.

It occurred to him, then, that they weren't on an equal playing field. She had memories of him and with those memories came expectations. That had been the problem the first time around–the problem that quickly presented itself the first time a version of her had walked into the tavern and wanted to have a drink with him, the version of her that hoped he could fill a void in soul.

He'd failed her.

He hadn't wanted to, but he had. He could never be the man she wanted or needed–he could never be the version himself she'd known and loved, the version of himself she hoped he'd be.

But this version of her was different, he told himself.

She didn't have the soft eyes or the expectant smile and when he kissed her, there'd been such a spark–something that had been missing before. This version, though, was all passion and fire. There was no hesitation, she took what she wanted and offered no apologies for it. She was rough around the edges and she was flawed, not some idealized version that seemed too perfect to be real.

The night before they'd spent hours talking and he'd never been bored. She was such a mystery to him–bold and audacious, and just the right amount of evil–a mystery he couldn't wait to solve.

Reaching out, his hand slips beneath the blanket to stroke against her bare hip–and a smile edges onto his lips as she began to wake. And while he isn't sure what the future will bring for them, as her eyes flutter open and she turns her head to look at him, he can't help but think that he is damn certain looking forward to finding out.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a few weeks–and for the first time, she was happy.

Her fingers thread through his as they walk down the wooded road, letting the moonlight lead them.

It's the sort of thing she would have scoffed at, something she would have mocked. She have rolled her eyes and audibly sighed, making a sharp-tongued comment that was dripping with insecurities only she thought were masked.

But then, everything is different here.

For most of her life, some part of the Enchanted Forest was her home–from her family's estate on the outskirts, to Leopold's kingdom and all the little villages tucked away with it, from the woods which served a sort of refuge to the smaller kingdoms just beyond them. She knew the now-overgrown trails, she knew the shortcuts, the ins and outs–she'd never considered any of it off-limits.

But it wasn't the way she remembered it–the once bustling villages lay empty, their residents living another life in another realm and the castles occupied by kings and queens who'd been her adversaries were now empty and falling into ruin. Those who remained stayed out of her way, unsure of how to respond to her, likely remembering her reign of terror and the stark contrast of the softer side she'd shown upon her return a few years before with a varying degrees of confusion–and perhaps, even indifference.

It didn't bother her that she wasn't their queen, power and control were no longer the things she sought–and, if she were being perfectly honest, it was relief not to have to care about them, not to have to think of them, to be able to focus solely on the new life she was creating for herself.

"I think tomorrow night I'd like to do a bit more exploring."

Regina's brow arches. "As opposed to what we're doing now?"

"Now, we're just… wandering."

She blinks. "Is that a complaint?"

"No," he says, a chuckle rising into his voice as he looks to her, letting a grin curl into his lips. "No, never. I know better than to complain."

Rolling her eyes, she looks ahead. "I suppose you have a destination in mind."

"I do," he's quick to say. "King George's castle…"

"George's castle," she repeats with a scoff. "It was never much to look at, and thirty years of weeds have made it even more of an eyesore."

"Maybe," Robin says hesitantly. "But I specifically remember a pendant… that contained some sort of serum that…"

"Got you high."

Laughing a little, he smirk at her, nodding in agreement. "Could be fun…"

"Ah," she murmurs, her voice suddenly curt as she looks away. "By exploring you mean… well… whatever it is that you do when you disappear in the middle of the night."

"It's not always the middle of the night," Robin returns. "But it does make it a bit more fun… though, it's not really necessary since you've cursed almost everyone into that ridiculous realm with its… rules."

A grin twists onto her lips. "You really hated Storybrooke."

"I hated the rules."

"Expectations."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No," she murmurs quietly, looking back at the darkened trail ahead of them, staring at a fork that will either lead them back home or to what was once George's kingdom. "You never take me."

"What?"

"You just leave."

"I always come back…"

"That's not the point," she cuts in, annoyance piquing in her voice as she bristles, hating the degree of vulnerability she's showing, even it she's only showing it to him. "The point is that… you never include me."

"You… want to come with me when I ransack and pillage unoccupied residencies and steal all of the fine things their owners don't even remember having?"

She turns to look at him, tipping up her chin and keeping her shoulders back as if to show the confidence she doesn't feel. "See, that's exactly why you need me."

"I need you?" He asks, scoffing at the notion and making her jaw tighten. "You, dressed like that?"

Her brow creases. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Laughing a little, he shakes his head. "As much as I love you in those tight leather pants and tight lacy dresses, they're not exactly conducive to scaling walls."

"I don't need to scale walls," she tells him in a haughty voice. "That's what magic is for."

Again, he laughs. "Yes, because that purple smoke isn't a dead give-away."

She scoffs, pulling her hand from his to cross her arms over her chest. "Yes, a dead give away to all of the people aren't there." Her eyes roll as she looks back to him. "You could, at least, set your sights a little higher."

"You have something in mind…"

"Robbing an unoccupied, forgotten castle is hardly a challenge." She laughs, watching as his gaze hardens and she can see that she's struck a cord. "Though, when your goal is something as small as a pendant…"

"Again," he says. "If you've something in mind…"

"Of course I do," she says, a grin curling onto her lips. "Midas's castle."

"Midas, as in…"

"The king with a golden touch." She watches the way Robin's eyes light up at the mere mention of Midas's wealth. "It's a bit farther than George's castle, but… if it's not too distracting to the people who aren't here, I could have us there and inside in a flash." A smirk tugs up from the corner of her mouth. "And given that Midas is still here, my leather pants and magic might be just the distraction we need."

Robin's eyebrows arch as his head tips to the side, his eyes glittering as he laughs out. "How did a scoundrel like me end up with a soulmate as brilliant as you?"

"Soulmate," she repeats slowly, her playful smile fading. "Wait… you're saying that you think that… I'm your soulmate?"

Reaching out, Robin reaches for her hand, tugging her to him. Her breath catches in her throat as he pulls her flush against him. "I'm saying," he begins as his hands run down over the leather-clad curve of her ass, "it makes sense that you would be… given the connection of our better halves." Then, his smile deepens, "And given the way that I feel about you…"

"And how's that?"

"I think you know."

A grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth–she does know. "So, then… you'll let me come along?

"Well, this particular heist is your idea," he says. "It seems only fair that you'd get to come."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Not tonight?"

"No, we have other plans tonight…"

"Do we?"

Robin laughs and nods as his hands slip over her hips and to her hands, and as he takes a step back his eyes train up and down her. "Yes," he says , tugging her forward as he takes another step back. "And its starts with getting you out of those leather pants."

She laughs out, letting him tug her deeper into the woods and she follows, she finds herself thinking that this is life she could easily settle into.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin wakes with a start as a low rumble ripples through the room. His eyes fly open and he sits up, looking around the darkened room as his heart races-and then slowly, his eyes turn to Regina.

"Bloody hell," he murmurs as a sharp snort escapes her. "Sounds like I'm in bed with a wild animal…"

Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and slowly releases it-and then, another snore escapes her, again forcing his eyes open as he groans. Rolling onto his side, he turns away from her. The sky is still dark and he knows it'll be a few more hours before the sun is up and even a few hours after that he'd like to spend sleeping. Tucking his arm under his head, he pulls the pillow away, placing it firmly over his ear. A victorious little grin stretches over his lips as he pulls the blanket up around himself-and then, it's quickly yanked away and once more his eyes fly open.

Sitting up, he blinks at her, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. She's in an odd position and her brow is creased with discomfort. Her fingers cling to the blankets that she holds to her chin. He hesitates for a second before reaching out and pressing his palm to her forehead-and grimaces when he finds her warm and clammy.

She's sick, he realizes with a feeling so sinking dread.

In all his life, he's never cared for another person-let alone a sick person, and on the rare occasions he fell ill, he was utterly helpless.

 _Damn it_ , he thinks, flinching and pulling away his hand as a loud rumbling snore escapes her-and his eyes widen as a series of shallow coughs follow.

"Regina," he murmurs, reaching over and pressing his hand to her arm, his heart beating a little faster as he wonders if she could choke. "Regina… wake up…" He pushes harder and this time, she starts to stir, a long drawn out groan escaping her as her eyes just barely hope. "Hey…"

"You woke me up," she barks.

"I… think you're sick."

"I'm not sick," she returns in a groggy, yet annoyed voice. "I don't get sick."

"No? Then why are you snoring?"

At that, her eyes open further and her brow creases. "I do not _snore_."

"Hate to inform you that you do, love…" He takes a breath, "Maybe if you sit up, you'll be able to bre-"

"I _don't_ snore," she snaps again, this time rolling onto her side and tugging the blankets up around her. "I can't believe you woke me up for this _nonsense_."

He sighs, watching as she shivers and tugs the blankets closer-and he feels utterly useless.

Laying back on his side of the bed, he tries to think back to the things his mother would do for him when he was sick as a child-and for the life of him, he can't remember the details of it. He remembers her bringing him tea and placing a warm rag over his forehead-but he can't imagine the blustery queen beside him would be very receptive to either of those things, it's not like he can pin her down and force tea down her throat and even if he could, he's not entirely sure what good that would do her.

He lays awake beside her, listening to her snore and cough. When the sun comes up, he's still awake and watching. Finally, she begins to stir and he sits up, watching as she groans and bats her hand over her hair, finding it damp with sweat.

"Why don't you… go back to sleep," he suggests, getting out of the bed and reaching for his pants. "I can… make you… uh… some tea…"

For a second, she doesn't respond, and he wonders if she heard him. But just as he starts to say her name, she turns sharply toward him. "Why would I go back to sleep? I just woke up."

"Well, you're clearly not well…" Her eyes widen. "I know you don't want to admit it, but you're sick."

"I _told you_ \- I don't get _sick_."

"Everyone gets sick," he says, biting down on his lip as a reminder not to let his temper get the best of him. "So, why don't you…"

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I just need… some breakfast and…" She shivers, running her hands up and down her arms. "More wood on the fire." She turns her head, her eyes widening at him as he realizes it wasn't a mere suggestion, but a command. "Otherwise, I _will_ catch a cold…"

"But you just said that you don't…" He stops has her eyes widen. "Nevermind," he mutters as he goes to the hearth and tosses on two extra logs, stoking it for a moment as Regina gets out of bed. He stops himself from moving toward her as she stumbles uneasily on her feet, offering an annoyed sigh at nothing in particular as she flickers her wrist to open up her wardrobe. Taking a breath, she sniffles and tugs at the ribbons at the front of her night dress-and with a soft sigh, her hands fall away and her head tips back. "Let me help you," he says, scrambling to his feet.

"I don't... need…." she sighs, turning to face him with wide eyes as his hand brushes against her hip. "You don't listen very well, do you?"

"I'm trying to help," he says, trying in vain to keep his voice even as his jaw tightens. "You looked…"

"You're in the way."

"Regina…"

"Don't you have anything better to do than stand here and… get in my way?"

Again, he feels his jaw tensing as he pulls away. "Fine."

He stalks into the hallway, tucking his shirt into his pants as he goes. With a wave of her hand the door slams shut and he turns, staring at it for a moment.

Never in his life has he met someone so infuriating-so stubborn and unable to see what was right in front of her. It wasn't just that she was refusing his help-though, he wasn't sure how much help he'd actually be-but she seemed to be in complete denial about what was happening.

"She's bloody delusional," he mutters underneath his breath, turning away from the door as he stomps down the stairs toward the dining room. He stands there for a moment, realizing that he lacks the magic to make breakfast just appear-and once more, he finds himself completely useless.

And he hates himself for it.

Robin trudges to the kitchen and after a few minutes, he manages to find some tea and he fills the kettle. There's a sack of grain at the hearth and he scoops some out, dropping it into a pot that he fills with water-and then he stands there, just watching as it boils. It occurs to him, after a few minutes, that he should probably tend to it in some way, so he reaches for a spoon and switches it through the thickening mush, grimacing as a series of expletives fall from his lips.

He hates feeling this way-and he hates that he cares.

And it's her fault that he does, he thinks to himself.

The kettle starts to whistle and he roughly pulls it away from the flame, filling two cups before reaching for two bowls, blowing the dust from them before setting them onto the counter and reaching for the boiled oat mush.

"This looks fucking disgusting," he says to himself as he drops two sticky dollops into each bowl. "She'll be lucky if I don't poison her…"

Nonetheless, he grabs the tray and carefully he carries it back to the rooms they share, pushing open the door with his foot and startling her.

"What the hell?"

He blinks and drops the tray down on a table near the hearth, making the cups clatter together. "I made you breakfast."

"You shouldn't have."

"You're not dressed yet," he says, ignoring her comment. "Perhaps you've decided to go back to bed."

"Why would I do that?" She asks, her voice biting as she rises up from the bed, turning her head from side to side, popping he neck and rolling her shoulders. "I'm _not_ sick." Her eyes roll as she faces him. "You're an absolute fool if you think I am."

He sighs. "I'm the fool?"

Regina looks sharply at him, her eyes widening as her jaw drops open. "Who the hell gave you the right to…"

"Care about you?" He cuts in. "My life would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn't."

Her shoulder square and he feels a little pang of guilt at his core-he shouldn't have said that and he wishes he hadn't. "Well," she breathes out, wiggling her nose as she pretends not to be sniffling, "No one's forcing you to…"

"Stop," he cuts in. "Stop right there." Taking a breath, he takes a step forward. "I think we both just need to stop before we say something we'll regret or..." His voice trails off momentarily as her chin tips up haughtily, as though to ignore him. "...say something that we won't be able to come back from."

"You're the one going around hurling accusations…"

"You're sick."

"No, I'm not."

"No? Then why is there…" He grimaces a little, waving his hand in front of his face, "...so much snot leaking out of your nose." Her eyes widen with indignance-and there's a flicker of something in her eyes. He watches as her eyes fall away from his and her shoulders drop as she sucks in a shaky breath. "Hey," he murmurs as he takes a few tentative steps toward her. "Hey, are you…"

"No," she cuts in, her voice barely audible. "I'm… I'm sick."

"I know…"

"You always do," she murmurs, slowly letting her eyes meet his. "I hate that."

"Maybe another version of me knew what to do, but _I_ clearly don't."

A lopsided grin pulls up onto her lips as she takes a couple steps toward him, craning her neck see what's on the tray. "That looks terrible," she says, her eyes sliding back to his. "I don't think either of us should eat that."

"It's probably for the best…" She grins and suddenly, she looks so different. "I don't really, uh, know how to…"

"That's okay," she says, reaching for his hand as she sniffles. "Maybe we could just… have the tea and then… get back into bed."

"We…"

"You look tired."

"I'm… not."

"Robin…"

"You snored all night."

"Maybe we could forget the tea and just…" She shrugs her shoulders as her voice halts. "I'll try to make sure you fall asleep first."

"You don't have to do that," he says, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her. "You don't have to force yourself to stay awake. You're sick and…" He sighs. "You're worth losing sleep over."

Nodding, she takes a step back and tugs him back to the bed. They both crawl into it and she cuddles close-and he takes a long breath as his arm forms around her shoulders, preparing himself for the inevitable, reminding himself in advance that she can't help it and he can't be annoyed.

"You're not so bad at this," she murmurs as her head settles on his chest.

"You're lying."

"Only a little…"

"Don't worry," he says as grin tugs onto his lips. "I'll let you make it up to me when you're feeling better."


	4. Chapter 4

It'd been Robin's idea to spend the day by the river. They'd left the castle early that morning and shed their clothes almost immediately after arriving at a secluded little stretch of the river just around a bend. He'd grabbed her hand and tugged her forward, pulling her into the crisp, still-cool water; and they'd spent the day floating and wading until the sun became too hot to bear, even in the water. Then, they'd switched to a particularly shady patch where the forest met the riverbank.

All in all, the day had been a relaxing one–though, it'd also been a little dull.

But, that could be said of most summer days.

Summer had reached that unbearable point when the air was heavy and stuck to your skin, when even the nights didn't bring relief.

A grin curls onto Regina's lips as her foot rubs against Robin's ankle. "Are you hungry?"

He groans a little. "It's too hot to eat."

She nods and her foot pushes higher. "Well, we should do something."

"We are doing something," he counter. "We're laying here in the shade, drying off."

"Drying off would be a lot easier if we were in the sun, you know."

"I'll catch fire if I go in the sun," he murmurs, still not looking up at her.

Pulling herself up into her elbows, she chuckles softly to herself, imagining Robin scowling at the sun and suddenly engulfed by flames as punishment for his mockery. "Well, I'm bored," she says, the image fading. "I want to do something."

"Nap," he tells her. "Napping is something."

"I'm not tired."

"You could swim."

"No," she sighs. "That's just… laying in water. It's practically what we're doing right now," she says, turning her head to look at the crystal blue water, considering it despite her rejection a moment before. "Besides, something tells me you won't swim with me."

"Something is correct." She rolls her eyes, watching as a self-satisfied grin edges onto his lips. A lopsided smile tugs up at the corner of her mouth as she watches him, letting her foot travel up to his knee and then twisting it so that it slides along his inner thigh, and finally, his eyes open. "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself," she tells him, laughing softly as she wiggles her toes. "Am I bothering you?"

"Bothering… isn't the right word for what you're doing."

"You know," she begins, flicking her wrist to drag the little basket they'd brought along with them closer. "I think I figured out something we can both enjoy."

Robin's brow arches and his eyes shift to hers. "Oh?"

"George's pendant," she tells him, lifting the long gold chain from the basket and letting the little red pendant encompassed in a golden dragon swing back and forth. "We could… try it out."

"Well, there's an idea," he murmurs, sitting up and shifting himself toward her, his finger pushing at the pendant. "Though, opening it is still a mystery…"

Her eyes roll. "For someone who is in the business of breaking into things, you're certainly bad at it sometimes."

"Excuse me?" He scoffs, looking up at her with wide, injured eyes. "It's not like you've been able to open it."

"But I haven't tried," she tells him, a laugh rising into her voice. "It's been too much fun to watch you struggle." His eyes narrow as she waves her hand and he groans as the dragon's hold on the pendant loosens. Regina reaches out and pulls the red glass circle away, dropping it into her palm as her eyes shift to his. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Robin blinks. "It's incredible how much I both love and hate you right now."

Leaning back, she shrugs, rolling the little glass ball around in her palm, then she closes her fingers around it and takes a breath. Her eyes close as she concentrates, focusing her attention on opening the glass bulb. Then, slowly her fingers uncurl and the ball rises from her palm, a stream of red smoke puffs out of its top.

"Amazing," Robin murmurs, his eyes widening.

"So, all you have to do, is… breathe it in."

"You… know an awful lot about this little pendant," Robin says, his eyes meeting hers. "It's like you've…"

"Used it before?" She asks. "That's because I have." His brow arches in surprise. "That pendant belonged to Maleficent and she and I were… very close." She sighs. "George made quite a name for himself as a dragon slayer… or as someone who hired them."

"And he… slayed…"

"No," she cuts in, a sad grin tugging onto her lips. "Maleficent always bested him… though, he did manage to get away with some of her hoard." Reaching out, her finger pokes at the red smoke. "Like this piece."

Her grin changes as her eyes meet his and leaning in, she breathes in the red smoke. Slowly, she lets it fill her, waiting for that once-familiar tingle to start. Her closes as she takes in another breath, dragging in more smoke. She laughs a little as her eyes open, blowing the smoke in Robin's direction and watching as he breathes it in.

It's not long before their shoulders are relaxed and their heads are spinning, and, and suddenly, even the uncomfortable heat is humorous.

Robin settles himself at her side, stretching out his legs and poking at the little bulb that continues to float in front of them. Regina giggles as his finger twists through the red smoke, changing it's direction and making it swirl toward then dashing his finger through it and diverting it away from her and to himself.

"Hey," she sighs, scowling as she turns to look at him. "That's not fair."

"It's perfectly fair."

"No…" She pouts as a grin curls onto his lips. "You're going to have to make it up to me."

"Make it up to you?" He repeats. "And how do you expect me to do that?"

She watches as he leans in, sucking in more of the smoke, his eyes closing as he holds it in his mouth–and then, a giggle bubbles up from her core. Twisting around, she pushes him back, pinning his shoulders to the ground. His eyes fly open with surprise as she climbs on top of him, straddling his waist as she hovers over him, grinning as pushes herself forward. His arms are pinned above him as her lips find his, her tongue tracing them. She nips at his bottom lip a couple of time before parting his lips with her tongue–and it takes him next to no time to respond.

She pulls back and sits up, watching as what's left of the smoke waft up from his lips–and a confident smirk edges onto her lips as she watches his eyes narrow.

Before she can even process the change in his expression, his arms come up and he pulls himself into a sitting position. She gasps too loudly as his arms fold around her and his hands slide over the curve of her ass–and he laughs out as she leans in to peck at his lips.

But before their lips can touch, he pushes her back, pinning her down as her eyes grow wide–and then, a giggle escapes her. Wiggling her hips, she makes herself a bit more comfortable as he lifts himself up above her. He parts her knees and leans in, peppering her stomach with wet, tickly kisses. She giggles again as her fingers thread through his hair, her head tilting back as his lips slide lower.

He drags two fingers between her legs, feeling how wet she already is, before his hands find her hips and drag her down on the blanket. He leans in, lapping his tongue over her warm, sleek folds. His fingers grip harder at her hips as his tongue flicks against her clit, making her breath catch in her throat. Her back arches, bringing her closer to him he sucks and licks, his fingers pressing harder into her skin as she her climax builds.

And then, he pulls away, laughing out as he breaks all contact, knowing that he's driving her mad in all the wrong ways. Her eyes grow wide as she sits up, and she takes a breath, scoffing as he sits across from her, giggling at her annoyance.

"Sometimes I really hate you," she says, pushing herself forward and shoving him onto his back, just off the edge of the blanket. A satisfied grin crosses her lips as she climbs on top of him and kneels above him. "I guess I'll have to do all of the work," she sneers.

Again, he giggles as his hands grab at her legs. "Hm, and now I have you just where I want you."

"Is that so?" She asks, her brow watching as he nods smugly. "Well, I suppose this worked out for both of us then," she tells him. "Because I won't be the one dealing with sand in my ass when we're finishing."

She laughs as his smile fades and before he can even think to move, she lowers herself onto to him, sinking down his entire length. He lets out a low moan as she envelops him, his eyes rolling back as a grin forms on his lips–and all thoughts of sand in unpleasant places are forgotten. Her hands slide back against his legs, pulling herself nearly entirely off of him.

She smirks as his eyes open, focusing his attention on her and watching as bends her knees and pulls herself closer, then pulls back again, slowly riding him. She giggles as he moans again as she sinks back down on him. He takes a breath and smiles as he reaches out, pressing his palm against her stomach and she finds another giggle bubbling up as she pulls herself back and his hand slides to clit and his fingers begin to rub against her–and for a few minutes, she's content to rock her hips slowly and enjoy his touch.

And then, in a burst of laughter, she pushes herself forward, planting her hands on his chest as she takes him by surprise. His laugh matches hers as she once more pins him to the ground, this time riding him to orgasm.


	5. Chapter 5

Never in his life had he had _someone_ –never until _her_ , that was. **  
**

And he was terrified to lose her.

It seemed unlikely, though, as fate had seemingly brought them together when another doe-eyed version of her dropped into his life. She'd been different, though–softer and so heartbroken–and he knew that he could never be what she needed. He'd tried, however–for a moment–and then her expectation weighed too heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't expressed it well–feelings were never quite his forte–but she didn't deserve a substitution, someone pretending and just going through the motions.

And though it took him awhile to realize, he didn't deserve it either.

Regina– _his_ Regina–had come into his life at the exact moment he began to understand that, and she'd set his heart of fire.

She was edgy and independent, smart and confident. She dressed in ridiculously over-the-top outfits and kept her chin tipped up haughtily. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and if someone got in her way… well, heaven help them. But behind all of the flair and bravado, there was something else, something that she tried to keep concealed behind those dark, beautiful eyes–and something that was all too familiar to him.

He thought he'd lost his chance when he'd been zapped back to his own world, and admittedly, it made him a little sad. It didn't matter that he was mourning something he'd never had, but before he could dwell on it for very long, fate intervened once again. He didn't know how it happened and he didn't care. All that mattered was she was there with him–and this time, he wasn't going to lose his chance.

Robin jolted up with a start, his heart racing and a thin line of sweat on his brow.

He could barely remember the details of the nightmare, but that didn't matter–what mattered was the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and–

"Hey," Regina murmurs, sitting up as her hand presses to his arm. "Are you okay?"

Roughly, he shoves his hand into his hair.

"Did you… have the dream again?"

"I think so," he tells her, nodding. "I don't really remember it."

"No," she murmurs as she edges closer. "You never do."

"It's just–" he sighs. "That feeling I have whenever I wake–"

"I'm not going anywhere," she tells him, resting her chin on his shoulder as she hugs him to her. "I'm right here." He nods as she presses a soft kiss to his neck. "You're stuck with me."

"I'd better be because–"

"You are," she cuts in, her hand rubbing between his shoulders as he draws in a breath. "Come on. Let's lay back down."

Robin nods and lets her ease him back, and when she cuddles into his chest, his arms fold around her, holding her closer to him. His arms wrap around her and he breathes her in, taking comfort in her–and so, so glad he'd found her and had her to hold.


	6. Chapter 6

He never quite imagined them as parents.

Of course, looking back, that seemed stupidly short-sighted.

Regina had a son-or well, a part of her did-and he knew how her heart ached from being apart from him. Though she didn't talk about it, he knew that she missed the boy, but he also knew that she felt he was better off in the world he grew up in with the mother who'd raised him-and what she deemed her better half. Then, of course, some other form of himself had fathered a son that was now in his care, and the boy was too young to really understand why the man who looked and sounded like his father wasn't actually his father. Of course, that detail was all a moot point, and he'd easily fallen in love with the curly-haired boy who had a penchant for tree-climbing and stealing sweets.

But he hadn't expected anymore children for them. He'd never considered it an option-and that was another thing that went undiscussed between them. He knew that she couldn't conceive a child. There wasn't any changing that detail, so there was no need to discuss it-and though they'd both, at one time or another, found other paths to parenthood, it simply wasn't a subject easily broached.

Then, one night, she'd accompanied him on a raid.

One by one, the Merry Men all bailed out when a thunderstorm struck just as the sun was setting, leaving him and Regina to go at it alone. Of course, she could have easily used magic, getting them in and out in the blink of an eye. But they both agreed there wasn't any fun in that, so they'd waited until the timing was right, then snuck in through the back tunnels that were meant for deliveries. A party was going on and across the courtyard, he could see the glittering gemstones worn by the partygoers-and for a moment, he'd considered a change of plans.

The party was a masquerade and it'd been easy for them both to blend in, and he considered that it'd be fun to spend an evening pick-pocketing while eating good food and dancing. But for all the jewels on display in the ballroom, he knew that was nothing compared to those that were left unguarded upstairs.

The staff of the castle were all downstairs-pouring drinks and clearing plates, ensuring that everyone had a good time. The guests were staying overnight and there'd be another ball the following evening, and before he'd even gone through a quarter of the rooms, his satchel and pockets were already filled.

Almost giddily, he turned into the room where he and Regina said they'd meet-an unmarked, random room at the center of the long corridor-and he found himself wondering what wares she'd found, what they would sell off or give away and which pieces they'd keep for themselves. And as soon as he spotted her, he had his answer.

Regina was sitting in a chair by the fire-and given the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she'd been there for some time.

"He was crying," she says. "No one came for him."

"Perhaps they didn't hear?"

"I did," she says. "From the other end of the hall. I heard him."

He nods, coming toward her and crouching down at her side. Regina doesn't look up-though she smiles gently as his arm stretches out around her shoulders-and he peers down at the child sleeping in her arms. The baby's cheeks aren't plump like you might expect of a child its age. Reaching out, he rubs his fingers over the baby's head and instead of finding it soft and smooth, it's dry and scratchy.

"I changed him," Regina says, almost sensing his confusion and mild alarm. "He must've been sitting in that soiled diaper for hours. He has a rash, so I can assume this isn't the first time it's happened." It's then that she looks up and her dark eyes look wounded. "I looked. There's no room for a nurse. Barely any clothes or flannels, no toys…" Her eyes shift back to the baby. "It's been more than an hour. No one's bothered to come check on him."

Robin feels something stirring inside of him-a sinking feeling in his stomach and heat rising up the back of his neck. Downstairs he can hear the laughing and the music, and somehow, it suddenly seems louder. They'd chosen this particular house because of its inhabitants. The couple who lived here in this great house were young and spent their money foolishly-of course, they'd each inherited a tremendous amount of wealth upon their marriage, so they had it to spend. But their penchant for indulgence was noticeable, especially in contrast to the way they squeezed their tenants.

"Then they don't deserve him," he says, his voice abrupt and surprising even him-but once he says it, he commits to it. "We should take him." Regina's eyes shift up to his and she doesn't look surprised. Instead, she nods and offers a tight little grin that somehow shines through her eyes and he realizes that was her plan all along. "Come on," he murmurs, looking back toward the door. "Let's take him home."

A month later, he stands near the doorway, smiling as he watches Regina hovering over their son's crib. A crystal mobile hangs above him and she's shaking a rattle, making him laugh as he reaches up and tries to catch hold of the shimmery gems floating above him.

After they brought him home, Regina magicked together a nursery. It was warm and well-lit, filled with toys and storybooks and other things to amuse him. Together they'd given the boy a bath and Regina's hands hovered over him, clearing away his rash and healing his chapped skin. He'd bundled the baby up while she'd prepared a bottle, and the three of them settled together by the fire.

The next morning, they introduced Roland to his new baby brother, and he didn't question where he'd come from-instead, he wanted to know the baby's name. When they confessed they hadn't yet picked something, Roland's face lit up and he begged them to let him choose-and a bit reluctantly, Regina agreed. Then, they both breathed out a sigh of relief when he tested out the name Maximus William.

It was a good name they'd told him-strong and proud, even regal-and Roland beamed.

Now, Max was happy and healthy. He'd gained weight and his cheeks were rosy and filling out, and his little laugh was infectious. For the first two weeks, they'd seen posters nailed to trees and a search party was sent out. But already, the people who'd once been his parents had given up on finding him, and after the third week, they'd hosted yet another lavish party, and to him and Regina, that meant that Max was officially thiers.

He stepped a little deeper into the room, watching as Regina fawned over their baby boy-and a wistful little smile crossed his lips as he took in two of his most precious and invaluable finds.


End file.
